Falling Leaves
by BiblioMatsuri
Summary: Danny was having a good day for once. Then Murphy stuck his nose in, and his fourth Halloween as a half-ghost takes a turn for the worse. Part of the Spirits Rise Verse. Rated for safety. Status: Dead, but I'm leaving it up.
1. Stop

Disclaimer: I don't own DP.

BGM: "Through the Fire and Flames" by DragonForce

* * *

Stop

I was having a decent day, for a change. I actually caught the bus this morning and made it in just before the bell, so I didn't get detention. Dash only punched me once, and it wasn't in the face, which saved me the trouble of lying about it when Jazz showed up. Even the lunch wasn't too bad – the pizza is probably the only edible food they serve, even if the crust does have a suspicious resemblance to cardboard. I even got to get a few answers right in Chemistry, since I got some studying in between ghost fights last night. Yeah, life was good.

You see that "was"? I should have known Mr. Murphy would stick his nose in at some point. Stupid me, I forgot to check the date – and completely forgot what happens to the shades of the restless dead, aka ghosts about a month after the harvests. Pre-Christian Celts called it Samhain, a day to honor and pacify the dead. Medieval Christians called it All Hallows' Eve, in honor of some dead saints. Notice a theme? It's now known as Halloween, and the exact day doesn't matter to ghosts any more than all the calendar changes affected the Christmas Truce. Halloween is when the lands of the living and the dead are so close, one could almost reach from one to the other. The key word for most people is "almost". Unfortunately, I'm not most people. This Halloween I couldn't just have a psycho undead knight on my hands. No, I had to be stuck in ghost form right before a Fenton Family Dinner.

"What do you mean, don't worry?" At this point, I was flat-out yelling. Yeah, it wasn't very nice of me. This is me not caring.

Jazz smiled at me in her calm, professional way and held up her hands in a gesture of peace. She continued on, "Danny, from what Sam found in her research, this is only to be expected. As a human-ghost hybrid, you are linked to the Ghost Zone, which acts as a buffer between this world and the true Land of the Dead. You aren't dead – you still need to breathe, eat and sleep, after all, but right now any supernatural power is going to be a bit, ah…"

"Haywire?" I asked sardonically. "Yeah, I figured that out right around the time I tried to turn back, and my heart stopped."

"Oh," she said in a very small voice.

"Jazz, please tell me you have something better than 'oh,' because I'm freaking out here!" I paced through the air of my parents' basement lab, swinging my hands around and generally being somewhat fruit-loopy. Wait… Crap. I sighed and turned to Jazz.

"Uh, Jazz?" I questioned. "I was wondering, when you were pretending to be Vlad's obedient niece, did you notice any books on Halloween in that huge library he's got?"

"Ah, no. I was a bit busy trying not to let myself drop out of character. The school play doesn't really do much to prepare one for living with a highly intelligent sociopathic supernatural being – OH! Danny, you can't be thinking of breaking into Vlad's mansion to look through his research library! You know he'll take any opportunity to manipulate you."

I rolled my eyes, sinking down so I could talk to Jazz face-to-face. "No, you think? I know how the fruit-loop works. It's not like I haven't dealt with him before."

Jazz looked at me sharply. "Yes, you have, and not one of those times ended well for you."

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me, little brother."

Aw, man. Jazz only calls me "little brother" when she's either about to psychoanalyze me, or lecture me.

"The first time you met, he caught you in one of Ghost X's traps and tried to kill Dad, and he would have succeeded if you hadn't blackmailed him. Which was horrible of you, by the way, but very nicely executed," she chirped, brightening up a bit.

I stared at her, temporarily shocked into silence. Was Halloween making Jazz crazy too?

Suddenly, a friendly voice pitched in from the foot of the stairs. "You know, you shouldn't be encouraging Danny to blackmail people, except maybe Dash. Besides, his name isn't Ghost X, it's Skulker. If you have to give him a nickname, at least make it insulting. 'Ghost X' is just tacky."

"Oh, this coming from the guy who names his PDAs?"

"Hey! I only name the ones that last more than a week, now… It hurts too much when I name the short-lived ones. Alas, they were taken from us too soon," Tucker choked out. He'd taken off his beret and held it and his latest PDA to his chest. I ignored him, and Sam gave him an incredulous look, then shook her head and smiled at me.

"Hey, Danny." She raised an eyebrow and looked me over. "Huh. You don't look any weirder than usual."

"Har de har har, Sam. In case you haven't heard, I can't turn human. Mom and Dad are expecting Danny Fenton at dinner in-" I glanced at the clock. "Twenty-six minutes? Aw, crap. If I'm not back to myself in less than half an hour, I'm a dead man walking. And no, pun not intended."

"Is it that bad? Your powers go on the fritz all the time. Maybe one of your enemies sabotaged you. Remember when Amorpho stole your identity?"

"Brilliant theory, Tucker," I drawled. "Except for a few little holes. First, Amorpho isn't exactly evil, and I check that machine at least twice a week to see if it needs to be 'fixed' again. Second, my powers haven't 'gone on the fritz' like this since Undergrowth, and that was because my ice powers were maturing. I haven't felt anything out of the ordinary today. No weird sensations, no glowing eyes, not even accidental intangibility. I fought four ghosts last night, and one during lunch today, and I don't remember any of them having any new gadgets or attacks that could have done this. I just threw Desiree into the Ghost Zone a few days ago, and I made sure to negate all the wishes everyone made first. Spectra is still licking her wounds from Valerie's new missiles. I haven't heard much from Vlad lately, though."

Silence reigned. Awkward, heavy, how-did-I-miss-this silence. Sam and Tucker shot me identical flat looks, while Jazz lifted an eyebrow and sent me an unspoken question. I sighed again, and sank down to the floor, then sat heavily on a workbench. "I hate that guy."

Tucker piped up, "I knew it!"

Sam glared at the Vlad photo, er, dartboard. "Typical. Vlad must have found out about the Amorpho incident, stolen your parents' design, and put it on a timer."

"That's not exactly new for him. Remember the Plasmius Maximus? It shuts down a half-ghost's powers for three hours at a time. If he could put a time limit on the end time for a machine that trapped me in human form, then he can probably put together a time-release mechanism."

"There's a shock," Jazz remarked. "Danny, you're not still planning on going to Vlad's, are you? If Vlad is responsible for your powers malfunctioning, he'll be ready and waiting to ambush you."

"If?" Sam scoffed.

"Point," Jazz conceded. Whenever my life got screwier than normal, Vlad was nearly always involved. Mysterious scientific conventions and a million-dollar-bounty on my head? All in a day's work. Vlad got Amity Park invaded by the ghost king, helped create an evil alternate future me (okay, that was unintentional, but you'd think a genius would find some way to help that didn't involve ripping out part of my soul), infected my friends with a terminal illness he had no cure for, and let's not forget how he made a sentient "expendable" clone of me in his quest for the perfect half-ghost son. Just to add insult to injury, Vlad tore down the Nasty Burger and replaced it with McMaster's. Vlad stole the Infi-Map and nearly got Sam burned for being a witch, for which I will _never_ forgive him. Vlad freed an uncontrollable weather ghost. Vlad has taken advantage of Valerie's unreasoning hatred of ghosts, especially my ghost half, to trick her into his dirty work as the Red Huntress for three years now.

I hate him, I really do. If I said what I was thinking, Jazz would probably spout some psychobabble about how it's unhealthy to repress my anger. Sam would agree, and make some ridiculous threat involving her fist and his ugly face. Tucker would either cheer or point out that Vlad has superhuman powers and Sam doesn't, at which point Sam would punch him. Depending on my mood, I'd laugh or try to break them up. Is it creepy that we've had this conversation enough times I can predict exactly how it would go?

That would be a resounding yes.

I shook my head. There was a time and a place to moan and groan about the fruit-loop, and this wasn't really it. "So, we're all on the same page now? Go to the mansion and try to beat the answers out of Vlad?"

"And what do we do while you get your butt kicked?"

"Shut up, Tuck."

"I'm with Danny," Sam said. "Vlad might have stuck Danny in ghost form, but Danny still has all his powers. Um, you do have your powers, right?" She looked up at me with an obviously worried expression. Tucker and Jazz shared a look, and joined Sam in staring at me.

"Um, I guess? I mean, I can still fly, obviously." I turned my hand invisible, and then passed it through the bench and back out. "Okay, the basics are fine. Ecto-blasts?" I pointed at a nearby beaker and shattered it in burst of green light.

"Danny! What will Mom and Dad think?"

"That I'm hopelessly clumsy? The beaker was empty, and pretty much everyone expects glassware to break around me."

"What if they heard you?" Jazz hissed.

I raised an eyebrow. "Not likely. Mom's busy making a racket in the kitchen and keeping Dad out of the food, and of course Dad's too busy trying to get into the food. Anyway, the ecto-blasts are fine. Let's try ice." I cupped my hands and concentrated on drawing out the coldness inside me. Sure enough, a snowball formed between them, and I threw it at Tucker.

"Ow! Dude, not funny. What if you got Francine wet? She could get a short-circuit!"

Sam chuckled. "I don't know, I think snowballs are pretty funny. And 'Francine'? Really, Tucker?"

"…Francine is a perfectly good name."

I gave him a blank look and chose to quit while I was ahead. "I'm not even going to touch that. Okay, so pretty much all of my powers are working now. I can't really test the Wail in such a small space, and besides, if things get bad enough that I need it against Vlad, I'd probably just use up all my remaining energy in the process."

Sam started. "Danny, what if Vlad set it up so your powers only malfunction if you try to fight him?"

I moaned and held a hand to my forehead. "If I start worrying about what Vlad may or may not have done to me, I'll spend the next hour or so psyching myself out. Spectra won't even need to work at it the next time she shows up to drive me nuts. I know Vlad is a way better strategist than I am, and I'm nowhere near sneaky enough to see through whatever his plan is. It's better if I just do this and worry about traps when I get there."

She looked at me skeptically, and had opened her mouth to continue the argument when Jazz of all people cut in. "Um, guys? I don't mean to be rude, but it's ten to seven, and if there isn't a human Danny at the dinner table in ten minutes, Mom and Dad are going to assume the worst. In this family, that means our parents will storm every place in town with high reported ectoplasmic activity until they find you."

"Oh, great," I griped. "Remind me again how I'm supposed to hide being a ghost from two _ghost hunters_?" Granted, considering how dense my Dad is it's more like one and a half, but still.

"No problem, Danny. Just go intangible and sneak out. I'll tell your parents that I invited you over to my place and you went on ahead. You eat at my place almost every day anyway, so they won't think twice about it."

"Okay, yeah." I slumped, feeling calmer. "So, usual excuse then. Uh, Jazz, you'll cover for us, right?"

"Of course, little brother. You two, go tell Mom and Dad Danny is at Tucker's. I'll call the Foleys and tell them Tucker went out to grab dinner with Danny and Sam."

"Great!" Tucker beamed and ran up the stairs. Sam just rolled her eyes, waved at me and followed him. I floated off the bench, about to take the direct route from the basement when I felt a hand on my arm.

"Wait, Danny!" Jazz looked seriously worried.

"Jazz? What's wrong?"

She looked at me, then shook her head. "Danny, did you forget about your…", she hesitated. "Ymptoms-say?"

"My what? Symptoms? Jazz, what are you talking about?" Then it clicked. No pulse. Right. I shook her hand off and smiled sheepishly. "Ah, heh. I didn't forget, really! I could fill them in on the way?"

Jazz shook her head. "Oh, Danny. You always try to do everything by yourself. You know you can depend on us, right?"

"Jazz! Of course I do. It's just…"

"Just what?"

I grimaced. This was turning into a Jazz Fenton Guilt Trip. "I just don't want to bug my friends with this. Sam already worries about me enough, and it's not like she and Tucker could do anything to fix it."

Jazz frowned at me, and then let an unfamiliar cynical smile lift her lips. "Danny, I highly doubt that."

"That Sam can get worried?"

"No, that they can't do anything to help. I'm studying to be a psychologist, and I've gone through every parapsychology text I could find with a fine-toothed comb. Tucker is capable of near-impossible feats of technological prowess. How many seventeen-year-olds have hacked into the Axiom Labs mainframe?"

"Don't let Tucker hear you. He'll never shut up about it."

Her face smoothed into her more familiar benevolent older-sister smile. "I know." Jazz giggled, and then looked up at me, frowning again. "Stop trying to change the subject, Danny," she chided. "This is important. Remember Sam Manson? Who found Freakshow's book and told you how the Reality Gauntlet worked? Who knows more about magic and the occult than some supernatural beings?" She looked at me pointedly.

I gave. "Okay, okay! They're- _you're_ _all_ useful, but now you're forgetting something. Vlad is a half-ghost like me, remember? Yeah, he's crazy and definitely dangerous, but he's a known quantity. I can deal with Vlad. Plus, ever since Danielle rebelled against him, he's gotten more and more petty. He would do something like this just to annoy me. If it's not his fault, if there really is some unknown force or new enemy involved, I don't want to drag Sam and Tucker into it. The less they know, the better."

"And how does that work?"

"Gah! Sam! And Tucker. How long were you guys standing there?"

"Long enough to know you're trying to push us away again. I thought we were friends," Tucker complained.

"So did I. Apparently someone doesn't agree." Sam glared at me accusingly, daring me to answer. I fumbled for words, with little success.

"We are friends! That's why I don't want you to get hurt!"

"Danny, don't you think it would be easier to ensure their safety if they knew what sort of threat you might be dealing with?"

"That's the problem, Jazz. I don't know what I'm dealing with." I gave up and sank down so none of them would hurt their necks trying to make eye contact with my face close to the ceiling. "Look, today was totally normal. Then out of nowhere, a few hours ago, I turned into a ghost."

"Yeah, we figured that much out. So what? You've been half-ghost for three years now, Danny."

"Please stop reminding me, Tucker. It's not like I could forget it now, anyway."

Sam and Tucker shared a look, and Sam asked, "Danny? What exactly do you mean by that 'now'? What changed? And don't even think about brushing us off."

"I wasn't going to! I didn't even consider it." Well, the first part was true. "It's just that when I tried to turn back, I got a little shock…"

Jazz stared fearfully at Danny. Since learning Danny's secret, she'd become fluent in Danny-speak, and she knew that "a little shock" really meant "excruciating pain." Sam took a few seconds, but she knew Danny just as well. Even Tucker looked worried, and it was not a common thing for Tucker to worry about someone else.

Sam asked, "Then what, Danny?"

"…Then my heart stopped."

Suddenly, the room seemed unnaturally quiet. I'd told Jazz already, so she didn't move, but she did look sadly at me. Tucker gasped and gripped his PDA so tightly his knuckles went pale. Sam just stared, her eyes dull and hopeless, her usual dynamic manner gone. I didn't understand. Why was everyone so upset?

Sam gulped, and it looked like she was about to cry. I reached out to try to… I dunno, do something, and then all of a sudden she drew herself up like she was about to go into a fight. "Danny," she said quietly, just above a whisper. "You can't be dead."

* * *

Author's note: Here it is, the start of my first multi-chapter fic. Credit to dannyphantom. wikia. com for all the continuity references. This fic takes place near the end of Season 3, before D-Stabilized and no Phantom Planet. I'm sorry, but PP is just too much of a Deus Ex Machina for me to take seriously.

Also, please don't flame me for killing off Danny just yet. He already existed in some weird limbo between life and death, and it's only the first chapter. Speaking of, did I manage to keep everyone IC? If not, please explain how. Please R&R.

EDIT: I went over the list of episodes on the wiki, and came up with a rough timeline. By said timeline, it's been three years... so now I have to change a few things, like their ages and the setting. For the record, Falling Leaves takes place in 2007. Danny and the gang are 17 and juniors at Casper High, Jazz is 19 and a sophomore at a good-but-not-great local college on full scholarship. Don't worry, she's still planning on going to Harvard. This is Jazz we're talking about - queen of good grades.


	2. Start

Disclaimer: I don't own DP.

BGM: "Through the Fire and Flames" by DragonForce.

Previously on "Falling Leaves":

Danny's fourth Halloween as a half-ghost goes horribly wrong when he gets stuck in ghost form. This wouldn't be such a big deal, if only his heart would restart.

_Sam gulped, and it looked like she was about to cry. I reached out to try to… I dunno, do something, and then all of a sudden she drew herself up like she was about to go into a fight. "Danny," she said quietly, just above a whisper. "You can't be dead."_

* * *

Oh, no way. No. Damn. Way. This was not happening to me. I'm Danny Phantom. I've fought the King of the Realm of the Restless Dead and lived, and now I'm dead because of freaking _Vlad_? I took a deep breath, but it didn't really help, and mentally vowed to punch the fu- the fruit-loop extra hard the next time I saw him.

"I've been half-dead for years, Sam."

"Uh, no! You might be half-ghost, but you always had a pulse. It was just really weak in ghost form."

"Wait… Sam, how do you know what Danny's heartbeat sounds like in ghost form?" Tucker smiled slyly. Sam blushed and kicked him in the shin. Tucker yelped and hopped around whining about his poor bruised shin. I ignored him in favor of the only actual adult in the room.

"Jazz? I know I'm repeating myself, but please tell me you have some idea of what the hell to do. Stuck is one thing, but if I'm really, all the way dead," my voice cracked on the last word. "What am I going to do?"

Jazz shook her head hard a few times, and then slapped herself with both hands. Sam, Tucker and I stared, Tucker forgetting to balance and falling on his butt. I cracked a little smile at that. Tuck was almost as clumsy as I used to be. Jazz looked at us and said, "What? The Mythterns proved that sense-slapping really works, to a point."

Tucker lit up like a little kid with a bucket of candy. "You watch MythBusters? Awesome!"

I shot a sharp don't-even-think-about-touching-my-sister glare at my so-called best friend, and he shrugged. "What? Dude, I didn't even know she watched TV, except for the news and maybe those boring talk shows."

"I happen to be very fond of the programming available on the Science Channel, but that isn't important now. What is important is Danny's health." She turned to me. "Danny, have you experienced any major shifts in your worldview in the past few hours?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"Ghosts experience a major change in their personalities and psychological states during the first 48 hours of their existence as their obsession asserts itself. Sam, Tucker, you were here first. Has Danny exhibited any behavior that is out of the ordinary for him?"

"He's been switching between ranting about Vlad, worrying about his parents and wallowing in self-pity. Typical Danny behavior."

"Funny, Sam," I deadpanned.

Sam smirked at me and told Jazz, "See? Same as ever."

Jazz smiled in relief. "Danny, when a ghost goes through a major shift, they literally cannot hide the change in personality, especially from those who know them well."

I was running short on patience. "So?"

"So… You may or may not be dead."

I gave her all the response that deserved. In this case, a blank look.

"Look on the bright side, Danny," Tucker decided to pitch in.

"What bright side?"

"Now you're more scared than angry, so you won't go running headfirst into one of Vlad's traps." At that, I started and flew off to the Spectre Speeder.

"…And I spoke too soon, didn't I?"

"You think?" Sam barked as she ran for the Speeder. "Come on, grab Fifi or whatever its name is and let's go."

"Hey, wait up! And her name is _Francine_!"

Jazz just shook her head and took out her phone to call the Foleys. "Don't worry, I'll cover for you. Just like always. Would it kill you to say 'thanks' sometimes? Wait, I shouldn't say 'kill' if Danny might be dead," she muttered to herself.

"Mr. Foley!" She brightened. "Yes, it's Jazz Fenton. I'm back in town for Halloween. We're having a big family dinner, so… Yeah, Danny escaped with Sam and Tucker at the first opportunity. I am so sorry no one called you. No, no, it's fine! Yes, I'll go fetch them later. If I know those boys, they're off trick-or-treating, although I have no idea how they convinced Sam. Yes, I know. Again, sorry! Good night, Mr. Foley."

* * *

Man, Danny's life is insane. Or is that his half-life? Existence? Eh, whatever. Not like it matters, since there's a good chance that _my best friend just died_! Oh, man, how does Danny get himself into these things? More importantly, does he have to drag me along? I could have stayed at the Fentons' with Jazz and eaten dinner with them. So it glows a little, and the hot dogs always try to bite me. They're still good.

"Tucker! Earth to techno-geek!"

"What? Sam?"

"Come up here and help with the instruments. You know I can't make heads or tails of this stuff," she called from the pilot's seat of the Spectre Speeder.

"Can't Danny do it?"

"Not when he's this upset," she said glumly. "The last time he was this upset and went in the Ghost Zone, he forgot his ghost form couldn't phase through stuff here."

"So?"

"We're in an asteroid field, Tucker. I can drive this thing in a pinch, but the instruments make no sense. I don't even recognize half of them, and after listening to our NASA fanboy of a best friend for all these years I know more about planes and spacecraft than I ever really wanted to."

"Again, so?" I know Sam thinks I'm kind of an airhead, but does she have to drag it out so much?

"So, you know how I went exploring with Danny a few times when you had that family reunion in sophomore year?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll break this into small words for you: When he's angry, Danny drives like his dad."

I scrambled into the co-pilot/navigator's seat. "Aagh! Sam, for the love of all that is good and right, please let me at that instrument panel right now." I did not just scream like a little girl. If anyone claims I did, they are filthy lying liars. So there.

"What? Sam, I am not that bad a driver-"

"_Walker_," she growled out.

Danny backpedaled. "Sure thing. You guys can drive."

I gathered my wits about me and prepared to delve deep into the depths of the Ghost Zone. Wait, that sounded wrong for some reason. Oh, well, whatever. Purple football, here we come! Okay, that sounded wrong too.

"Tucker! You drive worse than my grandmother."

"Your Grandma Ida drives almost as fast as Mr. Fenton."

Ahh, silence.

"Tucker, if I didn't need all my limbs to steer this thing, I'd hurt you. Don't think you've won this one."

"Oh, you know I'm brilliant and awesome, not to mention-"

Suddenly, I felt a familiar cold hand on my shoulder. "Tucker Martin Foley, read the damn map."

"Sorry, man. Are you sure you're okay?"

Danny glared at me. "No! I'm not okay! If I was okay, I would be driving." He held a hand to his forehead and squinched his eyes shut, then looked pleadingly at me and Sam. "Guys, can we please just hurry? If this is Vlad's fault, I want to beat the antidote out of him. If it isn't, then he knows more about the occult than I do anyway. At this point, I'd even cut a deal with him, as long as my end wouldn't turn out to be 'renounce my father and help him steal my mother' again."

Okay, I'm confused now. "I thought you hated the guy?"

"I do," he admitted grudgingly. "But he is much more experienced than I am when it comes to the supernatural. No offense, Sam, but you only started seriously researching the occult after the Circus Gothica incident. That was less than two years ago. The fruit-loop has had nearly twenty years since he got out of the hospital to learn about this stuff. If I know Vlad, he would never turn down a chance at more power, like say, ancient Ghost Zone artifacts? Remember the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage?"

"Yeah, I remember," Sam grumbled. "But you have to remember how he double-crossed you!"

"This is Vlad we're talking about. If his lips are moving, he's lying. I'm used to it."

"Well, you shouldn't have to be!"

Lovebirds. The only thing that ever scares Sam is Danny getting in trouble, and the number one thing guaranteed to earn a spot near the top of Danny's "People to Hurt" list is messing with Sam. And the techno-geek is stuck with the map, and the co-pilot's seat.

Ooh, I just got a really good idea!

"Tucker, no. Whatever that look means, no."

"_You know, Sam is right. Juvenile pranks can wait until you have confirmed Danny's status as living or dead_."

"AACK!" I jerked in my seat. "Jazz? What the- oh yeah, I'm wearing Fenton Phones. So, how did it go with my parents?"

"_Just as planned_," she said in that sweet satisfied tone like a cat's purr. Man, Jazz is hot when she's being sneaky… And Danny looks like he's going to hurt me. Right, bad train of thought.

"Heh," I squeaked. "That's great, Jazz. So, uh, now what?" I glared pointedly at Danny and tried to communicate a sense of urgency.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Urgency fail. I looked at Danny incredulously. "You weren't serious about going after Vlad with no plan at all, were you? He'll kill us! Well, I guess he'd have to re-kill you."

"_Preferably in a way that allows him to take a mid-morph genetic sample so he could make a 'perfect clone', so he would have to allow your transformation back to human at least part of the way_."

"Yeah," he squirmed uncomfortably, hovering around the back of Sam's seat. "When did you get so morbid, Jazz?"

"_Oh, somewhere around the time Dear Old Uncle Vlad helped me perfect my lying skills_," she said quietly.

I definitely knew that voice, the one that made "Dear Old Uncle Vlad" rhyme with "slimy old he-wishes-he-was-a-mother-guess-whatter". Danny had it after Spectra tried to drive him crazy, Sam when we all thought Danny was dating Paulina, and I had it between the Family Reunion of Epic Suck and that "King Tuck" mess. Jazz might be good at covering up her problems with a bright smile and a heavy workload, but she can't repress everything. I'm no psychologist, but even I know that cannot be healthy. Heck, repressing is what got me into that mess with Desiree way back in freshman year!

"Jazz, are you okay?"

"_Tucker, it's nice of you to ask, but I'm perfectly fine. I'm just worried about Danny. He's the one in trouble. Watch the road and stay safe, okay? I have to go put in an appearance with Mom and Dad._"

"Sure, Jazz," I trailed off. It was Fenton Family Business, and that always came first. I'd just have to wait until it wasn't Fenton Family Business to talk to her. Who else would bother? Jazz was always the reliable, dependable one, just like I'm the funny guy with all the gadgets. I'm the one who gets stuck to ceilings and loses his precious PDAs one after another, and gets hurt in oddly comical ways so Danny can find something to laugh at in the mess that is his life. I might know exactly zip about psychology, but I do know something about being a supporting character in someone else's story. I know it sucks, and Jazz deserves happiness just as much as those two. Speaking of those two, I looked up from the instruments. Yup, Sam was driving and Danny had his arms on the back of her chair. Sam was smiling, but only because she thought no one could see her. Danny had his usual goofy lovesick grin. Same ol' Danny. Clueless jerk.

* * *

Author's note: So, pretty short chapter. Some more Danny-angst, and a look into Tucker's head. You might have noticed the changes in his behavior from the Danny POV sections. This is for a few reasons. First, Danny has a mental image of Tucker as a loyal, mostly-helpless goofball. Second, Tucker is a lazy-butt (think Shikamaru from Naruto) who prefers to play the fool he really was in freshman year to get out of any actual work. He has matured a bit, but prefers to keep it to himself so he won't have to do any actual work outside of ghost-hunting. Third, I'm new to writing fanfics and I've never written a long Tucker POV before. I had to get into his head before I really knew the guy.

Shippers: This fic is DannyxSam. Also, yes, it looks like it will have some TuckerxJazz. I didn't really plan it, it's just turning out that way. I support a few different pairings, and I'll take almost any that manage to remain within the realm of plausibility and keep the characters in-character. If you don't like DxS and TxJ, don't read.


	3. Will

Disclaimer: I don't own DP.

BGM: "In the End" and "What I've Done" by Linkin Park.

Previously on "Falling Leaves":

Danny's fourth Halloween as a half-ghost goes horribly wrong when he gets stuck in ghost form. This wouldn't be such a big deal, if only his heart would restart.

_Sam was driving and Danny had his arms on the back of her chair. Sam was smiling, but only because she thought no one could see her. Danny had his usual goofy lovesick grin. Same ol' Danny. Clueless jerk._

* * *

I glared at the instrument panel, willing the Spectre Speeder to go faster. Ghost Zone physics were iffy at best, and a trip that took twenty minutes one way might take days to go back the same distance. Unfortunately for us, the trip to Vlad's portal usually took five hours, and I was stuck with the world's most annoying geek for a co-pilot.

"Sam, you're going the wrong way!"

"The Fenton GPS says this is the way to Vlad's portal. I do know how to drive this thing."

"He's right, you know. It looks like things have moved around again."

"Danny, since when are you allowed to be a backseat driver?"

"I am not being a- Okay, I am, but that's not the point! Humans don't understand Ghost Zone physics, and trust me, this is the wrong way. We should have seen some of Walker's notices by now, but we're nowhere near the edge of his territory. I think we're going in circles."

"Darn it!"

"Shut up, Tucker!" I paused and turned to Danny. "Are you sure we need to turn around?"

"Um, let me have a look outside." He floated over to the window, squinting to see further. He would have phased through, but although the Specter Speeder was a "real world item," it was powered by ecto-energy and had picked up something of a resistance to intangibility over time. The look on Danny's face when he smacked into the roof was pretty funny, though. I smiled at the memory. Once a lovable klutz, always a lovable klutz.

I did not just use the word "lovable" thinking about Danny! He's just a friend, and it was purely platonic.

"Thinking about Danny?" Tucker commented.

I realized I was blushing, and shook my head a few times. This was not the time to be getting starry-eyed over my best friend. My sweet, heroic, very male friend… I slapped a hand to my ear, checking to see if the Fenton Phones were still in place.

"Sorry, Sam. Ember didn't hypnotize you this time. That blush was all you," Tucker drawled smugly. He snickered and opened his mouth to say something else, no doubt yet another false accusation about my nonexistent feelings for Danny. (Yeah, and the Nile is a river in Egypt.) I groaned.

"If you say anything about lovebirds, so help me, I will cut out your tongue and feed it to Vlad's evil little cat." Huh. That's actually a pretty decent threat. I wonder if it would work on that shallow bitch? "Besides, you shouldn't talk about getting hypnotized. You turned into a complete fanboy when Ember first showed up."

"Hey, she might be an angsty undead rocker chick with mind-control powers, but she has a really nice singing voice. Almost as good as mine," he joked. Now I had to cut him off before he started caterwauling.

"Tucker, if you try to sing, Sam might actually cut your tongue out." Danny, you have great timing, at least sometimes.

"But what would you guys do without me to lighten the mood?"

Oh, there were plenty of things we could do. I backtracked, looked over the thought and realized that I was getting almost as bad as Tucker.

"What was that, Sam?"

"Nothing, Danny," I hastily corrected. Why, why, why did he always make me turn into a gawky teenage girl who forgot to keep private thoughts inside? This was not the time for gawking! Danny could be dead, all the way dead and it's all Vlad's fault! I don't care if he has ghost powers. If he doesn't fix Danny, I'll punch his face in. I'll break all his bones, rip his intestines out and strangle him with them. I'll-

The object of my affec- _worries_ suddenly appeared in front of me, looking scared out of his wits. "Sam, what's wrong? You don't seem like yourself."

I pulled myself together. I could daydream about avenging Danny later. "I'm fine, really. Just thinking about Vlad."

Danny relaxed marginally, and rubbed his neck. "Heh, really? I figured I was the only one who hated him that much. It's, uh, it's kind of sweet in a twisted way. Want me to try and get the Plasmius Maximus so he can't fight back?"

Okay, that wasn't like Danny at all. "Danny, are you sure whatever's happened isn't affecting your personality? You don't really go in for torture, and even Vlad doesn't deserve that last one. I would enjoy watching you punch his face in, if you're offering."

He grinned nervously. "Um, I was joking about that? How about you guys stick to ecto-guns, and we all leave the bad-guy stuff to the bad guys."

I smiled, relieved and happy. Danny was still a goofball who tripped over his words, even after-

"Guys. GUYS!"

"What?" we chorused.

"If you're done bonding over your shared sadistic streaks and violent tendencies, could _someone_ move away from the instruments? In case you haven't noticed, Sam is still in the pilot's seat, and I really don't want this thing to crash."

"Oh, right." Danny flew to the other side of the Specter Speeder, leaving me alone with the techno-geek. Oh, joy.

Tucker slapped his forehead, muttering to himself. He turned and called, "Danny! I think you forgot something?"

Danny threw a half-hearted glare at the interloper. "Like what?"

"Directions."

Damn. I forgot we still had to get there. What is wrong with me today? I know it's Halloween, but in modern-day Amity Park it's just an excuse to dress like an idiot, go to parties and pass out in a junk-food coma. Now I'm acting like a mood-swingy nutcase. Done questioning Danny, Tucker told the Fenton GPS which way we were supposed to go.

Tucker deals with all the crazy mad-science gadgets the Fentons come up with. I get angry, kick butt and never, ever let anyone know how much I hate being only human while my best friend has to fight ancient evils and superpowered madmen. That's how it's always been. That's how it always will be. Danny always saves the day. He always keeps going, until he's running on rage and willpower. His battles are the size of a small town or a little blue planet, or an entire dimension, fought with arcane energies. My battles are fought with words and gestures, against my parents, my school, my life. These days I'm a crack shot, and I've always been a fighter, but that doesn't count for much against enemies who can warp space/time and reality itself. I glanced at Danny's reflection in the windshield. An ethereal figure suspended in glass against the acid-green sky of a dead world. A ghost. Not human, not completely, not since the day I talked him into messing with the Fenton Portal.

I glared at the instrument panel, willing the Specter Speeder faster. Go faster, so I wouldn't be stuck here alone with my thoughts. I wish Danny would trip and knock something over. I wish that Tucker would say something stupid, so that I have an excuse to hit him or say something back. I wish that something would fill the silence, so I could think about something other than Danny. I almost wish that I were the sort of person who could stop wishing and be content with what she was given, and I have never been more ashamed of a wish in my life. It was the one wish I could never say aloud, and not just because Desiree might grant it. If I say it, if I admit that I wish I was different, that sometimes I don't want to be tough and fearless, then it's like saying I want to be weak. I'm not weak. I'm not afraid of showing weakness anymore. I still hate it, but it doesn't scare me, because now there's something I fear more than being weak and pathetic and pitiful.

More than anything, I'm afraid that someday, my weakness will get someone else killed. I've always known deep down that the Danny Fenton I grew up with, the Danny who walked into doorways and stuttered and hid from bullies, hid behind me, was dead. The Danny sitting behind me is not bound by gravity, can command a room full of rowdy teenagers or rogue spirits with a word, and throws himself in the path of enemies infinitely worse than playground bullies. This Danny is someone I trust implicitly, without question. This Danny has nightmares about the time his mind-controlled body tried to kill me, and so do I. More importantly, I remember he broke the control to save me. This Danny is so much stronger than I am. Will he stop needing me?

* * *

I stared at the back of the pilot's seat, wringing my hands. What must she be thinking? Was it about what the fruit-loop has done since he became mayor? I hoped not. I never wanted my friends and family to have anything to do with that basket case, but no matter what I did, no matter how many times I told him to stay away, it wasn't enough. I wasn't strong enough to back up my threats, and he knew it. These days, I could sort of duplicate, and I knew Vlad couldn't use cryokinesis. That didn't count for much against an enemy I couldn't predict. Skulker wanted to hang my skin on a wall (ew, by the way). Ember wanted attention. Spectra wanted me, and every other teenager she could find, to suffer. The freaking Box Ghost wanted boxes. Vlad? Yeah, he wants Dad dead and Mom his (which will forever be beyond disturbing). The difference is that the ghosts always use a variation on the same plan. Show up, break things, scare people, try to hurt me and so on _ad nauseam_. The vultures were a joke, at least to a guy with ghost powers, but they still had sharp talons and the basic ghost powers, and they were a threat to unprepared humans. Skulker was my enemy of his own accord, so I never knew whether he was on an errand for Vlad or just hunting me for the fun of it. His weaponry and traps get nastier every time I see him, and he's smart enough to use my hero complex against me. If not for my stupid hero complex, I could have just knocked Valerie out and used her as bait when Skulker first dumped us in that jungle. Yes, the thought crossed my mind, but in the end that was just too much of a "Vlad" move to go through with it. It was something a ghost would do.

Tucker fights with numbers and computers. Sam fights with combat boots and ray-guns. Me? I use the very same energy that keeps me alive, as alive as a ghost can get. I can fly, shoot energy blasts from my hands and lift ten-ton trucks with one hand. I can reshape my body at will, and once regenerated from almost nothing. I could freeze anything or anyone solid, if I'm not careful to keep a lid on my emotions. I've been into space with nothing but a freaking helmet, and the only reason I needed that was so I could yell insults at Technus! I'm not human, any more than Vlad is. I pass by the cemetery, and all I think of is how much the weeds have grown, even though I know those plants are getting their nutrients from rotting human corpses. Somehow, I doubt even the queen of nature-lovers could find that sweet. I walk by the hospital, and I feel lives form and fade away. I look into someone's eyes, and see the light of their soul. Most of the time, I'm too busy to think about it. There's always a ghost to fight, a test to take, a bully to alternately avoid or prank. My half-life is insane, and that's just the way I want it. I might not like falling asleep in my cereal or getting stuck in detention nearly every day, and I definitely don't like getting beaten up multiple times a day, but it's better than the alternative. I have to be doing something. I can't be alone with my thoughts.

Vlad had minions he could send after me, and his loyal minions aren't the only threats. When he busted Vortex out of prison, the psycho weather ghost nearly destroyed Amity Park, and I'm not naïve enough to think he would have stopped there. Vlad woke freaking Pariah Dark to get at that stupid crown. Yes, now I know why he wanted it so badly, but could Vlad really have been dumb enough to think he could control the Ghost King? There's a reason a monster like that wound up with a title like his – he was too strong for anyone to take it away. And the worst part is, the most terrifying monster in existence is one that never would have come into being if Vlad hadn't tried to _help_, in his own twisted way.

Tucker thinks I don't want to work with Vlad because he's nuts and creeps me out. Sam thinks I don't want to join Vlad because he's evil and wants to kill my Dad. The main reason is one I can never tell anyone, not even Jazz. Jazz has become my unofficial confessor, but there are some secrets that can never see the light of day. Sam once told me about a rule of magic, that to name the thing was to give it form and substance. Basically, once you say something out loud, you can't un-say it. The idea is out there.

I'm not scared of getting hit, because physical pain goes away. I'm not scared of him killing Dad, because he'd have to go through Mom, and I don't think even he is far gone enough to kill Mom to get to Dad. It would kind of defeat the purpose. I'm definitely not scared of him ever winning Mom's affections away from Dad (ew, ew, ew), because Mom's known ever since the hunting lodge incident that Vlad still has a creepy stalker-crush on her, and the only thing she wants to do to Vlad is beat him to a pulp. I would pay good money to see that. No, I'm not really scared of Vlad and his evil plots. I'm afraid of what he represents, of the fact that of three half-ghosts in existence, one is feared and hated by some of the people he cares about most, one is a power-mad lunatic and one is a semi-stable lab accident that somehow developed free will and calls herself my cousin. (What if I'm more like him than I want to admit? What if I really will become like him someday?)

When Freakshow took away my free will, I did everything he said, and I enjoyed it. Breaking things, just taking things instead of asking politely and waiting my turn; I loved it. I could cut loose, and screw the consequences. Master would take care of everything, so it didn't matter who I hurt or what I ruined. Not having morals was fun, and that's yet another thing to add to my "Worst Fears" list. I shouldn't like hurting people, only I beat up ghosts for stress relief. That was different, though. Ghosts are nearly impossible to permanently injure. A few low-powered punches and ecto-blasts are a joke to the more powerful ones, and only a temporary setback to the weaker ones. Humans are fragile.

I looked down at my hands, pristine white plastic-y stuff over a stretchy suit that looked so cool when I was 14, and now makes me look like an idiot. Seriously, what nearly-grown man goes around in spandex half the time? Oh, right, me. Pathetic. I've already died once. It hurt, it sucked, but it's over. And now I would be dead, forever seventeen in spandex. I smiled, staring at my gloves, and noticed a few wet spots on the material. I looked up. Weird. It didn't look like anything was leaking. Oh, well. Time to shelve sorry little Danny Fenton and be the ghostly hero Danny Phantom, the ghost boy who didn't know how to quit. I could be Fenton later, in the privacy of my own room with all my dusty model planes and NASA posters. Right now, I had to have the strength of will to get through the next battle. Just one more unwinnable fight won, just one more impossible feat achieved, just one more endless day over with, until I could rest. Except I couldn't rest. Humans can't rest because they need air, water, food and shelter to live. Ghosts can't rest because their entire existence depends on a single goal, and the drive to fulfill it. I'm neither. I'm both. I wish I could stop for a day, let the world turn without me, but that's a luxury no one has. If I stop, I disappear. I wish I had the strength of will to keep going, without dragging my friends and family into my battles.


End file.
